


unspoken

by snowandfire



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Sokka (Avatar), Post-Canon, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, basically zuko can't say i love you, but just wants to help him be ok, sokka is okay with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowandfire/pseuds/snowandfire
Summary: Sokka can barely think straight. The way that Zuko's breath hitches. Just a little after every kiss. The way his hand has found its way into Sokka's hair. It's intoxicating."Well, I sort of have to.""Love that you can't help it." Zuko laughs.The words tumble easily out of Sokka's mouth, "Can't help it, I love you."
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 831





	unspoken

_love someone who understands even what you leave unsaid_

The first time it happens when they're sparring. It's an old habit. From their days of being on the run. Fighting a war they didn’t know if they would win. They don't get nearly as much time for it nowadays. With responsibilities. And commitments. But when they go at it. _Then its fucking on._ Master Piandao would be proud. 

Sokka's incredibly light on his feet. But Zuko swings hard and precise, leaving little room to wiggle out. It also sucks that most of Sokka's clever little tricks. Bowing under and coming up behind the swings of his opponent's sword. Well, Zuko tends to see it coming. After all, they’ve been doing this for years now. 

After a few minutes, Zuko has the tip of his sword to Sokka's throat. Sokka's lost. He knows it. And spirits, he loves Zuko when he's like this. Intense. Obsessive. Born to lead and to win. 

"Yield." Zuko says, even though it's only a formality. 

"Should I? Come on. Let's talk this over. Like men."

"Sokka. You're at my mercy. There's nothing that you could say or do right now that would get me to--"

"You're so sexy when you point that thing at me. Spirits sake, I love you." Sokka says, and he knows it's unfair. 

Just a second's loosened grip from Zuko does the trick. Sokka can knock his sword out of his hand. It clatters to the ground. He turns Zuko around, pulling him against his own chest, with his back facing Sokka. Breathing down his neck and holding his own sword an inch away from Zuko's throat.

"I love you so much." Sokka smiles, planting a kiss at the nape of his neck. 

"You cheated!" 

"Yield for me, baby. Come on." 

"I don't yield to cheaters." 

"It's not cheating if it's true." Sokka grins, but he lowers his own weapon, letting it clatter to the ground as well. Lying over Zuko's blade. A matched set. 

He turns the fire lord in his arms and leans in. Stopping half an inch from his mouth. And waiting. Zuko's already closed his eyes. And is just breathing against him.

"Sokka." Zuko whispers, “ _Please._ ”

"I really want to. You know I do. Two little words. Say them and I'm totally yours." 

"Fine. I yield."

That's all he wanted to hear. So Sokka kisses him. Closing the distance between them and capturing Zuko's mouth with his. Spirits, the rush of the win is nothing compared to the feeling of this. Running his thumb along Zuko's jaw. The soft heat of his lips. 

Again. It's more than enough. He loves this man and the way that he is. Just the way he is. Even though Zuko can't say it back. The words--they might be unspoken, but the feeling isn’t unknown. Not to him.

But the problem is, once Sokka's said it. He can't not say it again. 

* * *

It’s sort of unexpected, the second time Sokka says it. Because it’s not super pre-planned or anything. Or planned, whatsoever. They’re just playing hooky from ambassador-firelord duties. Sokka has to really commend his own sheer willpower that it happened at all. Since Zuko hates playing hooky. Debilitating sense of duty and how much he owes his nation and all that. But he comes around. He always does by the time they end up like this. 

They've been making out for the past thirty minutes.

He's bunching up the sheets with his hands, so he won't shoot fire in the heat of the moment. Those incidents make for a lot of gossip in these parts. The last two times made Zuko’s face achieve all-around unprecedented levels of crimson. Made him almost too embarrassed to ask for Sokka's kisses again. And they super can't have that. 

Zuko's actually still wearing the fire lord's headpiece, but it's slightly askew, and loose bits of jet-black hair are slipping out of his topknot. Coming down to frame his face, in a way that has no right to be this pretty. Zuko, in general, as a former card-carrying member of the ‘total-and-complete-jerkface’ club, has no right to be this pretty. 

Sokka takes his time with him, at first. He kisses him. And he goes slow. Slow and steady. Zuko's a sensitive man, and kissing is no exception.

What Sokka's doing, the tenderness with which he kisses him, that just makes Zuko completely lose it. It takes him a moment to get the words. And then string them together. Probably a few seconds more to make the string make sense. 

"Remember that time...when I said I'm never happy? I take it back. I take it back so much." He looks flustered, and flushed--and _happy_. So much so it's going to make Sokka's heart burst. 

_Spirits, I'm so far gone on you._

"Love it. The feel of you." Zuko sighs. 

"Yeah? Love being here." Sokka plants a kiss on the side of his mouth, and easily tosses the statement back. 

"Love your dedication. To the craft."

"And I love your ministers. For believing your stupid story about needing mid-day sun salutations. You're the fire lord, if you need to make out with your boyfriend during the workday you should just be able to say so. Can't believe you’re still so bad at convincing cover stories."

"Can't believe you! You had your hand on my leg the whole damn session."

They're speaking quicker now. Passing the words back and forth.

"A guy's gotta get your attention somehow." 

"Love that you want to."

Sokka can barely think straight. The way that Zuko's breath hitches. Just a little after every kiss. The way his hand has found its way into Sokka's hair. It's intoxicating. 

"Well, I sort of have to."

"Love that you can't help it." Zuko laughs. 

The words tumble easily out of Sokka's mouth, "Can't help it, I love you."

Zuko freezes. Whatever warm, toasty mood there was between them vanishes in an instant. He sits up and scoots back. His back to the elaborate carved headboard. 

He speaks in his stern, governing, voice, the one he uses when he's trying to sound older than he is, "You what?"

"I love you." Sokka repeats. For spirits sake, it's supposed to be a good thing. So why does Zuko look like someone's punched him?

"Okay." Zuko looks almost apologetic, "I see."

He looks all pained and stressed. Worry lines appearing over his brow. And he opens his mouth then closes it. 

Sokka puts two and two together. _He thinks he needs to say it back. Maybe he doesn't? Love me, that is._

Sokka thinks back to what he knows of him. The way Zuko looks at him, the sheer attachment in those golden eyes. Touches him. Like he’s the best and greatest thing he’s ever had his hands on. Walks with him side by side, their hands barely brushing. Uses every excuse to keep him here, in the capital, by his side. Then acts like he isn’t just so pleased when it works. _No, he does, he definitely does._

_Oh. He just can't say it._

"You know you don't have to say it back."

"But--"

"But nothing! C'mere. You'll say it when you're ready. And I won't have it any other way. Okay? Okay."

If he's being completely straight with himself (and there's another irony), he doesn't need the words to be happy with him. 

The cautious way Zuko nestles into his arms right then is enough. The way he whispers a raspy 'thank you' into the crook of Sokka's neck is enough. The way he lets Sokka fix up his hair and help him get dressed after is enough. 

* * *

The third time is after Ozai’s death. Zuko doesn’t want the death of his father to be an event. There shouldn’t be anything to honor him, because it would validate what he’s done. But he does want to have him remembered. Because they can’t afford to forget the mistakes of the past. 

He spends all day giving addresses to various groups of people wronged by his father. Meeting with them to discuss their problems. Continue talks of reparations. Zuko allows for Ozai to have the traditional funeral rites, but does not attend. He doesn’t visit the family crypt. 

Sokka finds him in the evening by the lake. Just staring at his own reflection in the water. For once, he’s not dressed like a fire lord. His hair is loose around his shoulders.

“Hey.” Sokka sits down beside him, cross-legged, “How ya holding up?”

“Fine.” 

“You don’t sound fine.” Sokka turns Zuko’s face towards him, “Come on. Talk to me.” 

“It’s over. I thought it would be done. But I can still hear his voice. Maybe he’ll always be a part of me.” Zuko sighs. 

“You’re not him, though. You won’t be. You care.” 

“Maybe it’s not enough. It’s going to take years, you know. To fix what he did.” Zuko explains, “I’ve barely started.” 

“ _W_ _e’ve_ barely started. But we’re not gonna just quit. That’s not who we are. Especially you. And you definitely didn’t get that from him.”

“He wasn’t that old. Some people think I had him killed.”

_I’d like to find these people and beat them with a stick._

“Not most people. Just the crazies. Don’t forget that.” Sokka takes his hand, and places it in his lap, “I’m really proud of you. For today. You really pulled through even though you must have been hurting.”

“I have no right to be hurting! He was a horrible person and an even worse fire lord.” 

“Yeah. But he was still your dad. And you’re allowed to feel something about it. I know you think it doesn’t matter. How you feel. But it matters to a lot of people.” Sokka says.

_It matters to me._

“Thanks, Sokka.” 

“Don’t thank me. It’s what I’m here for.” 

“This isn’t a part of your official duties.” 

“As your _friend._ ” Sokka laughs, “Not as an ambassador.”

“Do you have dinner plans?” Zuko asks. 

“Yeah.” Sokka admits. 

“Oh.” 

“With you.” Sokka clarifies, “I love you. I’m not letting you go through this alone.” 

Zuko shifts a bit closer hearing this. And sort of cautiously places his head in Sokka’s lap. Sokka runs his fingers through his hair.

“Sokka. I-I--” Zuko starts to say. 

“It’s okay. I know.” 

There’s already been a lot, today. Zuko doesn’t have to push himself when he’s already down. That’s not the kind of love Sokka’s about. 

The soft, contented sigh he lets out, as Sokka continues to stroke his hair, is enough. The overwhelming gratitude Zuko shows him over the next two weeks, when Sokka stays in the palace practically glued to his side, is enough. Zuko doesn’t have to actually say it back. Because Sokka knows. And Zuko knows. So really that’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> couldn't figure out how to end this, so leaving it as a oneshot, really sorry to anyone who was looking forward to more :(


End file.
